The tension over the dinner table was so thick you could have sliced straight through it with the kitchen knife Maura held in her hand. Deftly, she divided up portions of a home-made chicken pie and slid each perfect slice of flaky pastry and creamy filling onto each plate in turn. Mine came last.

The table had been set for four but, as Jesse and I entered the kitchen to take our places, Patrick was in the process of laying out another; though who the fifth dinner guest was remained a mystery. This was something else that appeared to have annoyed Jesse's mother, a unexpected dinner guest – in the form of myself – when she had already catered for four, all that careful planning and organisation thrown out of the window.

Still, it wasn't as if there was too little food to go around. Each plate groaned beneath the weight of the pie and accompanying mounds of buttery potatoes and veg. She may resented my presence in her house during their time of grieving, but it seemed no guest would ever leave Maura's kitchen at dinner time hungry, welcome or not.

“You're certain he is still coming?” Patrick asked, warily, as he took his seat and eyed the laden plate at the head of the table, it's place still vacant and waiting.

“Yes, I rang him this morning. He said he would be busy most of the day, phone calls with the insurance company and things to take care of, but he assured me that he'd be here for dinner. Eric knows well enough what time I serve, he'll be along shortly I have no doubt,” Maura replied, though a frown deepened the creases ever present in her brow and displayed yet more displeasure. Whoever Eric was, he was already late for dinner and keeping Maura waiting when she had made you food was apparently something that you just didn't do.

“Eric's coming?” Jesse asked, pausing the path of his loaded fork on its way to his mouth. He looked somewhat anxious and put out by the prospect of this other dinner guest, and it made me much more curious about who this 'Eric' person was.

“Of course dear,” Maura replied kindly, though her face lost none of its stern expression, “if I weren't feeding him the poor boy would have starved half to death over the last couple of weeks. It's the least I can do, after all, family should stick together at times like this.” She glared across the table at the two of us, though mostly at me and it made me glad I would not be imposing upon her hospitality for much longer.

“Well, eat up everyone, don't want it getting cold,” Maura commanded, “Patrick dear, place Eric's in the warmer for me, he'll just have to eat when he finally manages to get here.”

Though she appeared mildly disgruntled that this Eric person had not turned up on time for her impeccable, home cooked meal, she seemed to have a fondness for him that couldn't be shaken. I started to feel an inkling growing about who this person must be. If I was right, from what I'd seen in his dreams while I poked around inside Jesse's head, dinner could suddenly become a much more interesting experience that I'd first anticipated.

Obligingly, I started to eat; I didn't want to incur any of Maura's wrath should I disobey what appeared to have been an order, and besides, I was hungry. The food was undeniably good. Alongside grieving and planning a funeral, who found the time to make their own flaky pastry pie top? Or were repetitive, time consuming and monotonous tasks a good way to deal with your grief – or to ignore it. Either way, I was happy to reap the benefits. Good food was one of the few things about the surface that I would never tire of; as much as I longed to be back home in Hell, I knew I wouldn't see another meal like this for some time.

We were about halfway through our meal – near silent eating interspersed with rare snippets of frosty conversation – when the front door suddenly slammed and the sound of footsteps could be heard from in the hall.

“Sorry I'm late Maura.” A voice called out from in the hall just before a blonde haired man stuck his head into the kitchen, in the process of shrugging off his coat. “Patrick, hi. Yeah, sorry, those bloody people could talk for England, and still not any closer to getting all of this sorted.”

The man disappeared back into the hall again but quickly returned, sans the coat, and took up the empty place at the table, though not before casting a curious and scrutinising eye over Jesse and myself.

“That's quite alright,” Maura replied with a smile that softened her harsh, pointed features – Jesse certainly looked far more like his father - “Patrick, be a dear and get Eric his dinner from the warmer, you must be famished.”

With a mouthful of food, Patrick found he had no voice to complain about his wife's command. Though I'm not certain he ever complained much, Maura certainly seemed to wear the trousers in their relationship. He rose from the table, placed Eric's dinner down in front of him as the man uttered a quiet word of thanks, then made his way back to his own chair. As he passed by his wife, Patrick reached out a hand and squeezed her tenderly on the shoulder, a sad smile on his lips. She was trying to act so normal, to keep up appearances, nothing was going to be the same again and he had accepted this, his wife had not. She continued to live in denial and he would humour her, play along with it if it made her happy, but a part of him must have known it wouldn't last. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop and it pained him to think of how his cool, controlled wife might suddenly break down.

I felt almost sorry for the man as I took in that one simple gesture before he took his seat again. Emotions I'd almost grown used to feeling dampened my spirits and sapped the curiosity I'd had about Eric right out of me. I had to get a grip and start embracing the demon again or these humans I'd become so surrounded by were going to overwhelm me and I'd never find my way back home; I just hoped my job wouldn't bring that man any more pain.

Jesse had noticeably bristled the moment that Eric entered the house. I was certain then that this man was Jesse's brother-in-law, Jen's widowed husband, and the more that I looked him over the more reminiscent he became of the figure I'd seen in Jesse's dream, dripping blood from his fingers over the body of his murdered wife. Pretty average of height and build the man was relatively unremarkable, without seeing him before me I couldn't have recounted many details about the figure in that dream, but seeing him in the flesh there was no denying the resemblance.

Tucking in as the rest of us cleaned our plates, Eric turned his attention to Jesse. “So you finally made it back up here then? We were starting to think you weren't even going to turn up for the funeral.”

Jesse scowled across the table. “I do have a life back home y'know Eric. A house to keep an eye on, a job. I couldn't just abandon everything for weeks without even knowing when we were going to be able to bury my sister,” he said bluntly, shoving his empty plate away from him. “Besides, the company back home is much more pleasant,” he added quietly, eyes downcast as he muttered words only I could hear.

If he'd accompanied them with his winning smile and a glint in those chocolate brown eyes, I might have thought him flirting with me, but he was sombre and the words took on an entirely different meaning. A shoulder in sympathy and people to take his mind off of things was what he'd been needing, and Jesse could only have gotten that back in the little village we'd left behind, couldn't blame him for abandoning his family in their crisis, not if this was how they acted.

Eric's own 'grief' over his wife's death appeared to have manifested as anger and sarcasm. Perhaps she'd been gone long enough for the despair to have passed, but he still didn't appear to be the bereaved husband, not how I ever would have imagined at least; and the way he appeared to mock Jesse started to grate on me.

It was clear the two men had no love for each other. Perhaps once it had been a simple case of each being far too different and stubborn to ever be friends, and neither believing the other to be 'good enough' for their beloved Jennifer. Sibling or husband, she had loved the both of them dearly and neither would ever understand why, nor would they ever try now that she was gone. However, the look Jesse cast at the blonde man, whenever he was otherwise occupied, spoke of something more. Something of a seed that I may have, unintentionally, planted in his mind that had mutated his simple dislike for the man into something far more sinister and suspicious. And, taking in Eric's flippancy, I was even starting to believe my own words.

Now wouldn't that just be cosy, Jesse takes revenge on his murdering brother-in-law. Keeps it all in the family, he gets the blood he feels he's owed, some twisted justice for his sister, I get my corruption case completed, and that man over there gets dealt another dose of pain... “Shut up,” I hissed quietly at myself. I'd made the mistake of looking up and taking in Patrick's defeated expression. He pulled at my human heartstrings while the demon in me delighted in the twistedness of the situation I suddenly found myself in. How was this ever going to work out okay when I couldn't even keep the two halves of myself in line?

“Oh, right, your building work isn't it?” Eric almost sneered and wrinkled his nose as he spoke those words, the question entirely rhetorical.

From his appearance it was quite clear that Eric was not nearly so rough cut as Jesse, not so used to manual labour. He wore a dress shirt to a simple family dinner, and though he paired them with jeans rather than tailored trousers, they were neat and impeccably pressed. I had to wonder whether Maura had started to do his laundry and ironing as well as cooking for him. Their hair was similar in length, though that was where the similarity ended for Eric's blonde locks were stupendously sleek and coiffed, nothing at all like Jesse's messy brown mop that he did all but nothing with.

Jesse had mentioned that Jen had met her husband while at university and he did look every bit the qualified professional, albeit a little boring perhaps. “So what is it that you do then, Eric?” I asked, suddenly, breaking the stony silence that I feared Jesse might shatter with some expletives given the look upon his face. My bet was an accountant.

His muddy, hazel green eyes flicked to me, gazing down his nose in my direction. “And why is that any of your business?” he asked, one thick but neat eyebrow arched and a condescending expression on his face.

I frowned and Jesse bristled again, but Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You'll forgive me, but I don't exactly appreciate you bringing your latest fling along for my wife's funeral. It's not some sideshow spectacle, it's a time for grieving and family, people who actually knew her.”

He still didn't strike me much as a bereaved husband and I couldn't see what Jen might have seen in the man; perhaps grief had changed him too but it was obvious he and Jesse had never seen eye to eye on anything. Even in mourning for their loved one, nothing was going to change that.

“Yeah, well she was my sister, I lost her too and I'll bring whoever I damn well please to her funeral because it's quite clear that without her this family has fucking fallen to pieces!”

“You will watch your mouth in my house boy,” Maura snapped, her eyes ablaze with rage. But, after her outburst, she quickly swallowed it away and regained her composure. “Now, let us please change the subject. Like it or not, Heather is here as our guest until Jesse chooses to head back home. It is what it is, so there will be no more talk of it.”

It's funny, but I felt even less welcome after those words. I had to look away from the scene at the table, I didn't want to see those stares on me; I would hold my tongue for the sake of this case, if I got us sent away we'd make no further progress – but if Eric also wouldn't even speak to me how was I going to learn anything useful from him? My thoughts drifted, yet again, to that handy little potion I'd kept stashed in my handbag, it just might have to be used he wasn't the sort, nor in any frame of mind for me to 'charm' details out of. But I couldn't do it then, no subtle way to slip it to him without anyone becoming suspicious.

Patrick suddenly rose from the table, it would seem he couldn't stand the tension any further. He bid his apologies and headed out into the garden. He was a keen carpenter, according to Jesse, and I'd bet anything he had a shed that served as his workplace and place of refuge; it must have seen plenty of use these past few days.

Maura appeared mildly discomforted by her husbands departure from the table. She must have known how he was suffering, watching his family unit crumble around him, but she was too proud to make any mention of it. Instead she turned her head back to her son-in-law.

“So, Eric, how did you get on today? Any progress with the insurers?” she inquired, her voice slightly strained and high pitched as she clasped to the final shreds of normalcy for dear life.

I could almost feel pity for the woman, if only she weren't such unpleasant company.

“No, the bastards, sorry Maura but there is no kinder way to describe them. They're still delaying with making any kind of payment. It's just frustrating, I'd wanted everything sorted out so that once the funeral was done with I can finally try to move on and not have to keep going over things again and again for blood hounds like them. God knows the police were bad enough.”

A frown furrowed my brow and a noise of contemplation slipped past my lips, though Jesse was the only one who'd seemed to hear me.

“What?” he hissed in my ear.

I shrugged, “Well, is it life insurance he's after? He doesn't exactly look like he's desperate for money, what's all the rush about? There's still a criminal investigation going on concerning her death, it's hardly going to be 'over' after the funeral,” I muttered, barely moving my lips and talking slowly so that Jesse could still take in my words despite my quiet tone. I didn't want the others to hear my thoughts, I was in enough hot water just being there.

Jesse cocked his head to the side in a gesture that was so very like a dog I didn't think I'd be able to keep a straight face, but my words had hit onto something.

“Is it really surprising though?” Jesse suddenly asked, and I did smile then, pleased that he was going to take a shot at Eric while he had the opportunity.

They both glared across the table at him, frowns so matched that it could have been they who were mother and son, not the man who sat beside me.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, petulantly.

“Well, what insurance company in their right minds are going to pay out on a case that's the subject of a criminal investigation?”he said simply, “and you know that's going to drag on after the funeral is done anyway, so all this nonsense about being able to 'move on' is just you and your pompous shit.”

His mother shot another harsh glare at Jesse for his language, but he ignored her. “It won't be over, it will never be over and we'll never be able to 'move on' until whoever the bastard was that killed her is rotting behind bars.”

Or rotting in the ground, I thought to myself. Though I was far from convinced in that moment that Eric was indeed the culprit, he didn't strike me as the type to murder his wife, wouldn't have had the stomach for such a messy business. Though he made a good scapegoat to get Jesse bent on the idea of revenge, it would all fall flat if he wasn't the one responsible. Sure Jesse would have his soul corrupted, but I'd been seen as having done a half arsed job and be shouldered with the blame for an 'innocent and unrelated death', there were rules that had to be followed and I'd have to prove Eric had a hand in this. Or I'd be back to clutching at straws in a race against the police to find the culprit, and they would of course have all the advantages.

So involved in my own thoughts I hadn't noticed that Jesse had risen from the table until he spoke my name – well my alias anyway. “Come on Heather, let's get going,” he said and I stood, obligingly. He hadn't given either of them a chance to reply to his words, but his mother's lips were pulled thin and Eric practically scowled.

“Going. Going where exactly?” his Maura demanded to know.

“Travelodge, we're not staying where we're not welcome. Thanks for dinner mum, it was lovely, but I just can't stay here. Not when it's like this.” He sighed and paused for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders and embraced his mother in a tight hug. “I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Dad I said goodbye okay, I don't want to disturb him if he's working.”

Jesse motioned for me to follow him and I hurried out of the kitchen door, never so pleased to be out of a room.

“So, you're not coming back here tonight then?” I asked, realising he'd said 'we're not staying', rather than just mentioning that I wouldn't be staying.

He shook his head, “No, I just can't bring myself to come back here tonight. I'll get a room too, or get a twin, whatever, dunno how much they charge up there. But I can't bring myself to come back, not when I know she'll give me an earful for talking to Eric like that.”

“You know what, I don't blame you.”

He chuckled slightly and slung an arm casually around my shoulder as we slipped out of the front door.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink.”